Lessons
by Renfro Calhoun
Summary: A series of five short stories, written by request, featuring adventurers and their daily annoyances, excursions and musings across Vana'Diel. Some violence, language, and the occasional airdelivery of lunch.
1. A Lesson on Direction

A Lesson on Direction  
A Final Fantasy XI fanfic by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: This game, its settings and ideas are property of Square-Enix. They are used without permission, but with the utmost care and respect.

Notes: This story, and all following stories, are a set of ficlets concocted for some of my friends by request, and a couple that include my own character. Some of their quirks require a bit of foreknowledge, but by and large these stories are self-contained, and I hope y'all will enjoy them too. This one's about a good-hearted but chronically misguided dragoon and the monk that puts up with her. Thoughts are in parentheses. Have at it!

* * *

"I could've sworn it was this way," said the Hume woman with a frown. 

The redheaded Elvaan tried hard not to voice her thoughts, or at least voice them impolitely. "Miss Cydori, are you absolutely certain? It just seems... implausible."

Cydori half-turned, cocking her head upward to meet Rhialyn's questioning eyes. "I know that, but I know what I saw."

"But a Yagudo, in this part of the country?" Rhialyn couldn't keep the doubt out of her tone. "This territory is home to the vile Orcs. The presence of the other beastmen would be... unusual, at the very least."

The brunette knew her comrade's words were true enough. The Ghelsba outpost, and the grottos which criscrossed through the region, were a point of daily conflict between San d'Orian forces and the Orcs. She also knew the Yagudo made their roost nearly a world away. Yet she was certain, well beyond reasonable doubt, that she had seen a sizable group of the feathered fiends not far from where she now stood.

Cydori glanced up one end of the cave tunnel, and then the other. Behind them lay the recently-deceased body of an Orcish Cursemaker, its body mangled, and riddled with stab wounds and claw marks. Nearby, Hien floated lazily about, munching happily on one of the treats she had given to the wyvern; a reward for his performance in the battle.

"I'm telling you," she insisted, "it wasn't far from here. I fell through and there were at least three or four of them. It was a miracle Hien and I managed to get out alive, much less unscathed!"

Rhialyn wasn't annoyed enough to suggest Cydori had been seeing things - she rarely let pass an opportunity for Orc hunting - but the woman's tale sounded uncomfortably close to a setup for a joke, and the Elvaan had a sinking suspicion that the punchline would be an ambush. Several parts rang particularly suspect in her mind, and she wondered if the Hume had actually visited Ghelsba.

She watched Cydori prod the ground with her spear, testing, presumably, for a hole or trapdoor. "Miss Cydori, soldiers and adventurers enter this region daily. It would be difficult to conceal such a trap."

Cydori ceased searching, shaking her head. "It had to have been around here somewhere..."

Rhialyn sighed. "If you insist."

"Although..."

The Elvaan's thoughts came to a screeching, deafening halt at the word. "Although?" Rhialyn asked, silently fearing the answer.

Rubbing her chin, Cydori gazed up at the stalactite-laden roof of the tunnel. "There are a couple things I don't remember seeing before."

(Oh no...)

"I mean, I thought we were just going in through another entrance, but I don't remember Ghelsba having so many trees or plants." Resting her spear over her shoulder, she turned fully towards Rhialyn. "It was all barren, and there were a lot of bees and such."

It hit the monk like a ton of bricks. The Yagudo, the pitfall, the flora and fauna.

In that instant, Rhialyn knew exactly what had happened. She couldn't even imagine how it had happened, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to.

"Miss Cydori," Rhialyn began, ignoring the barrage of questions her mind came up with, and opting for the practical one; the one which would tell her exactly what she needed to know. "Are you certain you did not... somehow... end up at Giddeus when you first ventured to Ghelsba?"

Cydori was initially defensive. "I would know a Yagudo stronghold if I saw one, Rhi."

"Have you not seen one before?" Rhialyn insistently asked, the pieces coming together upstairs. (I should have suspected as such when I saw her leaving from the east gate...)

"Well... well, no, not really..." Cydori fidgeted uncomfortably, averting her eyes. (I thought the outpost was supposed to be somewhere in the forest, but I know I was following her directions! I did... didn't I?)

Rhialyn made a heroic effort not to let her incredulity show itself. "How... how... didn't you..." she stammered, struggling for a dignified response.

"I, uh... heh," Cydori blushed, giving a sheepish smile. "I guess I read the map wrong?"

A reptilian squawk interrupted the two women. Both turned and saw Hien adopting a defensive posture, rearing up to bare its claws and fangs. Opposite Hien, a trio of Orcs had gathered, two armed with a sword and axe, beady eyes glaring at the female intruders. Rhialyn took note of the lead Orc; its weapon and armor looked more imposing and better cared for than the other two, indications of its leadership status.

"Damnable beasts," Rhialyn muttered.

Cydori heard something grunt from behind her, followed by shuffling footsteps. Instinctively she whirled and brought her spear up in a parry, and caught sight of the inbound axe just in time to properly block the swing. "Behind us!" she shouted as she shoved back the muscular Orc warrior, unbalancing it. "Two of 'em!"

Rhialyn immediately positioned herself back-to-back with Cydori, fists raised to strike. (They have the advantage,) she thought before charging, (but we are not so easily bested!)

Making a short swing with her spear, Cydori kept her opponent away. Hastily, she spun and gestured to the Serjeant, shouting, "Hien! Take him!" before turning back to the Orcs.

The axe-wielding Orc met Rhialyn's charge, swinging powerfully but wide; the monk easily dodged and countered with a blow to the stomach, doubling the beastman over and giving Rhialyn an excellent view of the now hostile wyvern launching itself at the lead Orc. She heard the blue beast screech and growl as it clawed at the Serjeant, and her own grunts added to the chorus of battle as she threw a pair of punches at the Orc before her.

Cydori deflected another blow with the shaft of her spear, but this time countered with a deft twist, flipping her weapon over and slamming the broad spearhead on the Orc's head. The second Orc closed in with a spear of his own, but Cydori was quicker, jamming the weapon into its arm with a mighty thrust. The Orc howled in pain and backed off cautiously, giving Cydori time to land a punishing strike at the first Orc's midsection.

With a triumphant "Kiah!" Rhialyn cracked the skull of the axe-wielding Orc, one solid haymaker sending the stout beastman to the ground. Her victory was short-lived as a massive fist blindsided her, knocking her into the wall. She bounced off the rough rock, her head jarred painfully upon impact, but she was fast enough to dodge the follow-up blow. The Stonechucker drove its fist into a particularly sharp rock, smashing it to bits; it shrugged off the pain with a feral growl and brought its other hand up in time to block a left hook by Rhialyn.

The monk threw three more punches before finally snaking one past the Orc's guard, catching it alongside its thick, stubby neck and twisting its head to one side. Her claws took out a small, but vital chunk of flesh, and the monster groaned in pain as dark blood began to spill from the wound. The injury was serious, the distraction fatal; Rhialyn broke the Orc's neck with the next, and final, blow.

Cydori grunted noisily as she jabbed at the first Orc again, this time punching through the armor and burying most of the spearhead into its belly. She winced at the sickening noise of steel on flesh as she pulled the weapon out, but was relieved to see the beastman crumple over, dead or as good as; she didn't care which. Turning her attention to the spearman, she ducked right to sidestep a blow and counter-thrusted, again forcing the Orc back. Mindful of her stance, she advanced on the Orc with a series of sharp, quick thrusts, and the Orc experimentally rapped his spear against hers.

The Hume was no expert, but she knew enough about fighting with a spear to know when someone was telegraphing a move. The Orc drew back, preparing for a single mighty thrust, and Cydori was more than ready to reciprocate.

Or so she thought, as the beast suddenly lashed out low and swept at her legs. She leapt to one side but didn't move far enough; the shaft of the blade struck painfully at the side of her knee, causing her to wobble and lose her balance.

"Whoa, whoa!" she cried, staggering backward. She vaguely saw the Orc raise its spear up for a downward thrust, right towards her head. Her first instinct was to fight the fall, disregarding her attacker entirely.

She opted for her second instinct. She pitched backwards and carefully, if roughly, landed on her back. The air was wrenched from her lungs, but she caught her breath as she twisted away from the incoming spear. The spear missed her left ear by a couple inches; the Orc, having put his weight into the thrust, was off-balance for a couple seconds - exactly one more than Cydori needed as she sat up and speared the beastman through the gut.

Panting, breathless and red-faced, Cydori slowly got back on her feet, her leg still somewhat sore from the strike. She turned and faced an equally weary Rhialyn, who was tenderly nursing the side of her chest.

"So," said Rhialyn between breaths, "are you positive you were actually here?"

Despite her condition, Cydori managed a little smile. "I may have been mistaken," she quietly admitted. The Elvaan monk either laughed or coughed; Cydori wasn't sure.

"Well... perhaps we should get going," Rhialyn suggested. "Doubtless our commotion drew the attention of others."

"An excellent suggestion, Rhi."

A high-pitched squawk called their attention to Hien. The wyvern sat perched on a small rock, proudly lording over the body of the Orcish Serjeant. The Orc had been virtually eviscerated, and its weapon lie several feet away; conversely, Hien didn't have a scratch on him, and held its head up with a hint of haughtiness. He then made a low, birdlike kaw and eyed his owner questioningly, and Rhialyn got the impression the wyvern was trying to look cute.

Cydori's smile grew. "Sorry boy, I'm all out of treats. But I'll get you more after we get back to San d'Oria."

The wyvern screeched in annoyance, but took flight and rejoined Cydori. The Hume turned and started up the tunnel, but stopped when she heard Rhialyn clearing her throat.

"Miss Cydori..."

"Yes?"

Rhialyn gestured in the other direction. "The exit is THAT way," she said, her voice just south of amused.

"Oh, right!" Cydori blushed. "Sorry."


	2. A Lesson on Heroism

A Lesson on Heroism  
A Final Fantasy XI fanfic by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Still applies. Property of Squeenix, you know the deal.

Notes: Sandwiches and deep thoughts on the nature of heroism during a dark and stormy ferry ride.

* * *

(Shouldn't we have arrived by now?)

The blonde Hume drummed his fingers on the wooden floor, leaning lazily against the crate behind him. The ship rocked and swayed as it cut through presumably choppy waters; the gentle tapping of raindrops on the deck telling him the storm wasn't quite done yet. A seasonal shower, or so the captain had called it. Nothing he intended to concern himself with, beyond staying below decks to keep dry.

(It's been at least an hour since he said we were an hour away.) Izzitda pursed his lips. (Damned old salt probably can't even count, much less tell time.)

The doors to the cargo bay opened, and a robed, pointy-headed Tarutaru casually waddled in. He spotted the Hume and approached him, one hand giving a brief wave while the other precariously balanced a partially-eaten sandwich on a plate.

"Mmph... 'thaid it'th gonna be," he stopped to swallow, "another hour."

"Another hour, huh?" Izzitda rolled his eyes. "Now I remember why I stopped taking the ferry."

Nimbex plopped himself down next to the Hume, resuming consumption of his sandwich. "Relax, we'll be there before you know it."

A muffled peal of thunder came through the hull of the ship, and the tapping grew faster and more pronounced.

"Heh," grunted Izzitda. "Haven't had to ride in this old thing for a long time."

"Same here," said Nimbex between bites.

"It helps to know spells that can get you across the world in a couple seconds," the Hume added with a faint smirk.

"Truly, Teleport spells exemplify the pinnacle of magical aptitude."

"Well, pretty much." Izzitda allowed himself a bit of a chuckle. "Hey, coming back to life is a luxury. Travel is a goddamn necessity."

Nimbex nodded in assent and took another bite.

"Where'd you get that anyway?"

"Mm. Emergenshy sammich." He gulped. "Never leave home without one."

Izzitda crooked an eyebrow. "Emergency... sandwich."

The Taru gave him an odd little smile. "You never know. If you're hungry, I brought the emergency back-up sandwich too."

"Ehh... no, not interested."

"Suit yourself."

Another thunderclap echoed in the distance, sharper and more distinct than the last.

"Dark and stormy night," mused Nimbex.

"On the ferry, no less." Izzitda looked up at the ceiling. "Brings back memories..."

"What of?"

"Long story. Indirect story, actually. Want the short version?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Let's hear it all."

"Right." Izzitda scratched the back of his right hand. "Well, last time I was on the boat with weather like this - must've been... ohh, maybe six years ago? Anyway, the last time, I met this old guy; old Elvaan warrior, mean-lookin' sonovabitch. He was sitting in the back, just staring at this pin he was holding in his hand. Looked kinda depressed, too."

"A pin?"

"Yeah, I asked him about it. Turns out, he was a San d'Orian veteran. It was his rank pin. Ways back, he'd been promoted and put in charge of his own squad."

"Hmm," said Nimbex, nodding.

"He said, 'For valorous conduct,' something about the best traditions of the knights... I don't remember exactly how he put it, but he started to tell me how he was promoted." Izzitda paused, taking a deep breath. "Then he looked at me, said 'There's what I was praised for, and there's what happened.' He tells me this story of when he was just another foot soldier. His unit went up against a beastman patrol out in La Theine."

"Orcs?"

"Yeah. After they finished off the patrol, suddenly his group was surrounded - it was a setup. They were basically trapped near one of the crags; Orc archers covered the cliffside exit while a whole mess of 'em were coming from the other direction."

Nimbex polished off the rest of his sandwich. "Ah'd take m' chanshes with th' archersh," he said through a mouthful of food. Outside, a bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby, the crack of thunder rolling every which way.

Izzidta snorted. "That's what they did. It was a slaughter. Most of the knights were dead before they even got to the cliff. He said..." he trailed off for a moment, "he said, 'one of them was aiming right at me.' Didn't have time to get his shield up. One of his pals accidentally ran ahead of him and took it in the neck." The Taru cringed. "He said... he said he actually almost tripped over the guy's body. Stepped on his arm as he ran."

"Anyway, what was left of the squad got out of there, but the archers retreated. He was ready to hack through all of 'em by himself, but they were long gone by the time they got up the cliff." He shook his head. "You could see he was pissed. It didn't help that when they got back, all five of them who were left wound up getting promoted, including him."

Nimbex was silent, his head lowered in contemplation. Izzitda added, "Last thing he said to me, before the ship docked. 'They made us heroes,' he said, 'just because we didn't die. Even though I should have.'"

"Heroes, huh..."

"I think about that sometimes," said Izzitda. Overhead, the tapping grew less rapid, the rain lightening up. "I keep thinking, maybe there's a lesson, maybe there's something to be learned from that." He shrugged. "Can't think of a damn thing."

Nimbex said nothing at first, seeming to stare through the floor. He then blinked, glanced up at Izzitda, and quietly said, "I think I have one."

Izzitda scratched his chin. "Already?"

"I think so," said Nimbex. "I think... sometimes, you can do everything right and still lose."

The Hume frowned. "That's not much of a lesson."

"No... but I think that's what they were trying to tell him." Nimbex looked away for a moment. "That they know his group lost, and lost a lot, but they went out there, they did what they were supposed to do. They tried."

"You don't usually get points for trying."

"True. But you don't usually know you can't win until you try." Nimbex sighed. "Sooner or later, you're bound to get into something you just can't handle, no matter how well you do. But you keep going."

"You just keep going?"

He nodded. "If you can."

"And you got that from his story?"

Nimbex reached into his satchel and removed a small paper bag, which he opened to reveal another sandwich. "More or less," he said as he idly began nibbling at the culinary creation.

"Huh." Izzitda rubbed his chin, slowly losing himself to thought. "Interesting."


	3. A Lesson on Versatility

A Lesson on Versatility  
A Final Fantasy XI fanfic by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Still applies. Property of Squeenix, you know the deal.

Notes: Solo adventure in Delkfutt's turned sour for a Red Mage. Reflections and narrow escapes ensue.

* * *

(Heh... she said it.) 

He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the giant's corpse, its fetid stench worsened as it began to decay. The many small cuts and scorch marks along its tough, leathery skin gave some hint as to its cause of death. The Hume's own weakened and wobbly stance evidenced his own participation in the matter.

(She said it, all right.) "Aaugh!" he suddenly cried, a sharp pain jabbing him from within. He struggled to breathe, he heard himself wheezing. (Bastard broke something...)

He'd stumbled upon the beast just trying to get out of the tower, and couldn't prepare in advance. Somehow, he'd managed to best the thing without piling on the support magic; he retained enough presence of mind to keep himself patched together, but couldn't concentrate for long enough beyond that. Protect had taken some of the bite out of the giant's strikes, but not nearly enough. Small miracle the giant couldn't keep the Red Mage cornered. One last, desperate lunge to smack down the annoying little pest that dared intrude on its domain; a wide opening, a sword rammed straight through its side, puncturing something vital; a backhanded smash that threw him halfway across the room.

End scene. (You said it, Boss,) thought Karlinn.

'She' had warned about taking initiative, about keeping alert, about not being surprised, and about not 'doing the Red Mage thing' just for the hat.

("You are going to take a lot of abuse. You are not great fighters, you are mediocre at best with magic, you all bruise like a sack of peaches and you draw a lot of attention. For anybody else in Vana'Diel, this would be a death sentence the first time you locked horns with a bumblebee.")

Yulia Boshrimo, AKA "Boss". Stereotypical tough as nails instructor with a heart of gold, and one of the only instructors available in his price range. A veteran Red Mage and adventurer; purported soldier, mercenary, assassin, ninja, pirate, secret lover to San d'Oria's Prince Trion, and just about everything else under the sun. The woman had stories for everything, and she swore at least fourteen of them were true.

("It's true, we're not. Even now, as I stand here before you, I can't match swords with many warriors, or spells with many mages. I can't take on crowds of bad guys and I am not capable of wading in and out of battle with ease. Neither, I'm willing to bet, will you all.")

Karlinn bit his tongue to take his mind off the stinging. (Wonder what she'd say now.)

The Red Mage slowly shuffled to the side of the hallway, away from the giant's body. He started to kneel down to recouperate, but cringed as that jabbing pain returned. He groaned, and then chuckled. (Damn... it hurts to kneel.) He laughed some more, parts of sobs working into his voice. "I can't even kneel."

He leaned against the wall, resting as best as he could manage. Slowly he felt his strength, his power return to him. As soon as he could, he snapped off a regenerative spell, and sighed in relief as his bruised flesh and broken bones began to mend.

("There is a point to this though, there is a reason. I've walked away from many a battle, slain many a beast and man alike. I've lived through ambushes, gotten through the kind of torment that would bring most to their knees, and escaped certain death more times than I could count if I had another life to count them.")

Karlinn felt his rib pop back into place. ("What's the common theme?") "Survival," he said to himself.

("Exactly. And your survival is linked to what?")

Some color returned to his cheeks. "Versatility."

("That's it, that's what it's all about. That's what we have that sets us apart.")

Karlinn never got too attached to his teacher, but he did respect her. For all the bogus rumors and conflicting, made-up stories, there was a distinct honesty to her tutelage; a method to her tall tales. If nothing else, she knew how to make a point and make it stick.

("Don't leave here understanding that you're to be ready for anything. Paladins are ready for anything. White Mages are ready for anything. Rangers are ready for anything.")

His breathing got easier. He took slow, controlled breaths as his mana continued to recharge. Just as he felt the life return to his limbs, he felt the ground tremble. He glanced up the corridor, curious and worried. His eyes went wide at the sight of a large shadow spilling into the hall, obviously cast by another giant.

The creature stormed into the hall, and spotted its fallen comrade. Its face already frozen in a grotesque glare, it somehow looked all the more infuriated as it turned its head towards Karlinn.

"Oh, goody," muttered the still-healing Hume.

("Any adventurer worth their salt should be ready for anything.")

He staggered away from the wall and drew his weapon. The exit, conveniently enough, was beyond the giant, and he had a hunch it wasn't going to just let him pass. The creature craned his neck to one side and growled out something; maybe nonsense, but it was enough to get the attention of another giant. The second pair of stomping footsteps told Karlinn everything he'd need to know.

He sighed, closed his eyes for a second. (Well, it was fun while it lasted.)

("A Red Mage is ready for anything else.")

The beasts started towards him. He had an idea, a flash of insight that - he would later laugh at the cliche - was just crazy enough to work.

Ten steps away. Just enough room for a single spell. He reached into his magical bag of tricks and did his best to concentrate, wisps of dark energy twisting around his body. He gestured to the nearest giant just when it was right on top of him. He'd know in a second if it worked or not.

The beast kept walking, but faltered after a couple steps. Its hate-filled eyes started to droop shut, and Karlinn got the impression it was suddenly fighting not to yawn. It took another step, and then tripped over its own two feet, no longer conscious enough to stand. The mighty giant toppled to the ground, and was snoring before its comrade could enter the fray.

Karlinn turned his attention to the other monster, who looked all the more determined to grind the Hume into paste. Too close for another spell; Karlinn brought up his sword and shield, and waited for the inevitable.

With a strangled roar, the giant swung its fist at Karlinn, striking his shield; the blow was blunted, but not stopped, and the Hume was flung away several paces. Karlinn slid to a stop, flailing his arms to stay on his feet. (Damn... can't take this one now, either.) He winced at the taste of blood, realizing he'd bit the side of his mouth upon being struck.

The monster had reared back several feet, cautiously, crouched low. It was watching him carefully, and for the first time the Hume noticed a faint glimmer of intelligence within its burning eyes. (Might not be able to just Sleep this one,) he thought, taking a deep breath. (Anything else, huh? All right then.)

He shook away his frayed nerves and ignored the mild throbbing from his head. He did his best to manage an angry glare, staring up at the giant as it advanced upon him once again.

"Let's go," he whispered, readying his sword and shield.

The giant picked up its pace, making great lunging strides toward the Hume, one arm cocked back to swing.

Karlinn started towards the charging giant, leading with his shield. "Let's go!" he shouted in challenge.

The giant roared, shaking the walls of the tower.

"LET'S GO!" Karlinn angrily yelled back at the top of his lungs.

A split second before he got within striking range, he veered right and dove along the giant's left side, tucking his sword in carefully to avoid cutting himself. He landed on his upper arm and shoulder and managed a short roll, narrowly dodging the giant's punch, and was back on his feet before it could turn around.

Karlinn spun on his heels, focused himself, and drew upon that hidden reserve of power. He gestured to the monster and made a last-second prayer.

Without even stopping to make sure the spell had worked, Karlinn sheathed his sword, slung his shield over his arm, turned and ran. He ran, past the sleeping and dead giants, past the four-way junction, and back to the tower's entrance. He didn't dare so much as glance over his shoulder, though he gathered from the monster's frustrated growling that it realized it was suddenly encumbered and unable to move quickly.

Breathless, he allowed himself to make a quick, obscene hand gesture in its direction as he dashed down the corridor. He barreled down the stairs and out into the blinding daylight, running for at least a minute before realizing he was out of the tower.

He stopped and doubled over, catching his breath with his hands on his knees. (You said it, Boss,) he tiredly thought. He looked back at the tower, smiling weakly. (You said it.)

Something crunched his way, through the snow. The hair on his neck stood on end. He looked out the corner of his eyes and saw the tell-tale shadow of a Dancing Weapon. Sure enough, an upward glance revealed to him its hideous purple-and-brown bulk, balanced awkardly on its birdlike feet and topped off with a vacant, yet cruel look on its face. Its weapon, hovering a few inches over its 'head', rocked back and forth, searching for a target.

Karlinn exhaled silently, whining to himself. (I hate Qufim, I really do,) he thought as he snaked a hand into his belt pouch. His hands closed around a potion bottle, his thumb and forefinger squeezing the cork.

He yanked the cork off and liberally applied the potion's contents in one fluid move. As he started to run again, his only thought was, (I hope that was Silent Oil this time.)


	4. A Lesson on Control

A Lesson on Control  
A Final Fantasy XI fanfic by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Still applies. Property of Squeenix, you know the deal.

Notes: Training in the fine arts of Summoning, as written by a guy who hasn't even unlocked the job yet. Also, meal delivery with style.

* * *

"Whenever you're ready-weady!" 

The redheaded Mithra scratched her thumb absentmindedly, her other senses desperately seeking stimuli with her eyes covered by the blindfold. She knew more or less what she had to do, it was simply a matter of doing it - 'it' being to command the fuzzy blue creature she knew was a few feet in front of her without making a sound.

Her sharp ears picked up the sound of a Tarutaru's tiny feet tapping the ground, in feigned impatience. She knew, as was the point of the exercise, that giving orders was no mean feat with ordinary creatures, let alone summoned beings.

So it was that Chaylinn had agreed to Kahri's unusual test, which left her bound by the hands, her back to a tree and a knife somewhere just out of reach. The Taru swore up and down was a proven way of learning to properly summon and guide things; in this case, the three-tailed, ruby-eyed Carbuncle, who sat and stared at the bound and blinded Mithra expectantly.

"The knife is nearby!" Kahri insisted. "Get Carbuncle to help you escape!"

(I know, I know,) Chaylinn thought. (All right, let's see... thinking... thinking...) She knew she could simply tell the thing to help, but silence was one of the parameters of the test. She had assumed, apparently incorrectly, that the creature could sense her requests somehow and respond. (What haven't I tried yet?) Briefly, she considered simply slipping her hands free from the ropes that bound her. Kahri tied a neat knot, but the rope itself was not quite tight enough, and the Mithra hardly needed to cut her way out. Still, she wasn't yet frustrated, at least not enough to bypass the point of the problem.

There was a hint in how the Taru had phrased the exercise, Chaylinn was positive of this. ("Think with two minds," she said. Okay... think with two minds. How?) She tried to relax, emptying her mind of any thought, as if to allow Carbuncle's thoughts to enter. When that didn't work, she moved to the next parameter. ("And be quietaru! You may have to give an order-worder without drawing any attention!" Okay, be quiet. So I can't say the command, yet he obviously can't read my... wait.)

She stopped. (She didn't actually say I couldn't talk. I just have to be quiet.)

"Carbuncle," Chaylinn whispered, "bring me the knife."

The creature made an odd, vaguely feline noise of discontent; Chaylinn might have described it as a very faint hiss. (I guess that's not it either.)

"You're getting warm!" Kahri announced in a sing-song voice. "You're on the rightaru track!"

(Right track, right track, okay. Why couldn't he simply bring the knife to me... what am I missing? What am I... wait, where is it anyway?) "Carbuncle," she said softly, "tell me where the knife is."

She heard the sound of paws on the grass as Carbuncle edged towards her. Surprisingly, it stopped just a few inches away from her feet and made a small chirping noise, clearly affirmative. (What the... wait, why... was it at my feet the whole time?)

Chaylinn grunted as she shimmied down the tree to a seated position, carefully snaking her tail off to one side. Slowly she wiggled around, feeling around with her hands and feet, until one of her fingers just grazed the handle of the weapon. She quietly gasped. (It WAS down there! Why did I need Carbuncle's help to find that?)

Kahri clapped and cheered. "All right! You can cut yourself loosey-woosey now!"

The Mithra quickly did so, grabbing the knife and turning it in her hand to saw open the ropes. They quickly went slack under the weapon's edge, and she promptly dropped it and reached up to remove her blindfold. As the world came back to her, she threw an odd look over to the well-dressed and smiling Tarutaru who now stood next to her.

"So what was that all about?" asked Chaylinn. "I didn't need Carbuncle to find the dagger. If I'd known it was close, I would've just picked it up myself."

Kahri continued to smile. "I know. That's the pointaru of this test."

Chaylinn blinked. "I don't follow."

"Well," said Kahri, "the truth is there are a number of ways he could have helped. You could have even told him to simply claw through the ropes."

Chaylinn paused, and raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked. (Wow... come to think of it, that WOULD have been a better idea.)

"But the point of the test isn't just to learn how to command Carbuncle - besides things like 'attack' or 'fetch my dinner'..."

The Mithra couldn't help but snicker a little. "They rrrreally do that?"

"If you ask nicey-wicey!" said Kahri with a broad grin. "Anyway, the point is to learn that, while ALSO remembering to use your own skills and abilities!"

"Ohhhh," said Chaylinn, a light turning on upstairs. "So that's what the 'two minds' thing was about!"

"Yup! Summoning is not bringing in things to fight for you!" Kahri held up a finger, and pointed to Chaylinn. "It's bringing them in to fight with you. You still have to know how to defend yourself, while properly controlling your summons."

The Mithra smiled, her tail swaying back and forth. "Interrrresting. Now I see why you recommended this." She bowed her head. "Thank you, Kahri."

"Hehe!" Kahri chuckled gleefully. "You're more than welcome!"

"All right then! Shall we get going?"

"Actually, not just yet." Kahri looked skyward. "It should be here any minutaru now."

Chaylinn looked confused, craning her head up. "What's that?"

A small, black dot was barely visible against the sky; it quickly grew larger, plummeting towards the ground. It took the shape of a box wrapped in paper, and seconds later it jerked as a parachute unfurled. Its descent slowed dramatically; the box gently floated to the ground and settled less than a foot away from Kahri.

The Taru grinned. "Dinner!"

"Okay... how, exactly, did you pull that one off?"

- MEANWHILE! IN UPPER JEUNO! -

Karlinn squinted into the sky, shading his eyes from the sun. "Did we make it?"

"Of course we made itaru!" said the diminuitive red mage next to him, with his tiny hand still on the catapult lever. "Another successful delivery! Kahri-wari will love it!" He reached down and gave Carbuncle an affectionate pat on the head. "Thanks, Carbuncle!"

"Where'd you find this friggin' thing anyway?"

"Pirate surplus store," Zoofster said proudly. "I'm thinking of getting my own ship!"

"Ah, you're crazy."

"I could use a firstaru mate, you know..."

"...I'm listening."


	5. A Lesson on Attention

A Lesson on Attention  
A Final Fantasy XI fanfic by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Still applies. Property of Squeenix. You know the deal.

Notes: Elvaan Monk, Mithra Warrior go a-treasure huntin', with violent results when one forgets where the key is.

* * *

"Hiiiii-YAH!" 

She bellowed mightily as her fist smashed across the beak of the Yagudo, assuredly breaking something vital in the beastman's head and knocking it senselessly to the floor. The raven-haired Elvaan's knuckles throbbed, stinging from repeated contact with bone and less forgiving materials, but she shrugged it off and turned to the next opponent - a Yagudo Persecutor, who looked none too pleased about his now deceased comrade.

Behind her, a distinctly feline growl preceded a weighty, sickening smash as her red-headed ally brutally chopped into a Piper with an axe. The Mithra nearly cleaved the beastman in two, and actually had to pry the weapon loose from its messy corpse. She then turned her attention to a pair of Votaries coming her way, cawing in alarm.

"Smoothskins!" hollered one of them, who quickly began chanting and preparing a spell as his partner closed in on the Mithra.

The Elvaan monk landed a solid one-two punch under her target's guard, and ducked back as the Persecutor angrily retaliated with an overhead slash. The blade missed her face by a few inches, but she kept her composure and lunged back into arm's reach; the Yagudo preempted her maneuver with a swipe of its claws, raking the nails painfully across her left arm and batting her fist out of the way. It attempted to follow up with a thrust, but she saw it coming and sidestepped the attack. In retaliation, she came around with her good arm and landed a hard blow on the creature's neck, sounding a disgusting crunch and throwing its head on a very unnatural angle.

As the Persecutor slumped to the floor, a bolt of fire hit the Mithra head-on, blinding her for a moment but doing little lasting harm. Gritting her teeth, she shrugged off the blow and steadied herself. Keeping both Yagudo just outside of striking range, she arched her tail up high and leaned back, gently bending her knees. The one to her left rushed in, lashing at her; in one fluid move, she snaked right, dodging the attack, and deftly spun in a complete circle, using the momentum to bring her axe around in a wide sweeping attack. The axe chopped at the right-hand Yagudo's bony legs, knocking them out from under him. Before the other Votary could react, she followed up with a devastating downward swing, cleanly separating the monster's head from its shoulders.

The remaining Yagudo was about to close in on the Mithra, who had her back to him, when a pair of powerful hands grabbed his shoulders. Growling, the Elvaan brutally pushed the Yagudo into the nearest wall; she took firm hold of the back of his feathered head and repeatedly bashed his skull against it, splattering dark blood over the rock, and then threw him to the ground. The beastman spasmed violently and then lay still, a soft hiss escaping its mouth.

The Mithra panted, trying to catch her breath as she scanned the hallway. ('Just a treasure hunting deal,' she says. Sure, whatever.) She scowled, the offensive scent of the beastmen's bodies poking rudely at her nose. "Okay, Lin," she said between breaths, "I'll ask once again. Are you SURE one of these guys has the key?"

Gingerly rubbing her swollen fists, Linmayu gave her companion a hurt look. "The door's right over there," she nodded her head towards a cast-iron door, which was the only natural feature of the otherwise blank, poorly-lit hallway. "I know the key can be found around here somewhere."

"Well, it'd have to be on one of these... birds," Sivara seemed to spit out the word. She slung her axe over her shoulders and turned to face the monk directly. "We've been here for at least an hour, though. How many are we up to, now?"

Linmayu shrugged. "I dunno, I lost count after thirty." With a grimace, she cast her eyes over the growing mass of dead Yagudo, which were strewn haphazardly up and down the hallway for several feet.

"I'm up to at least fifteen," Sivara said, somewhat wearily. She then furrowed her brow, her tail twitching in a flash of insight. Mumbling to herself, she counted off her kills on her fingers. "Wait, hold on. Which one was the one through the window?"

Pulling a map out of her satchel, the monk squinted at the nigh-illegible chicken scratches that supposedly told of the treasure the Yagudo were guarding. "Hmm... oh, wait," she snapped her fingers, "that was a Mendicant. He jumped through and you threw him back out."

"Did we check him?"

"Yeah, he only had some gil."

"Damn." The warrior resumed counting, her mind a veritable bloopers reel of the birdlike beastmen in action. She stopped again and looked up at the Elvaan. "What about the the one on the chandelier?"

"Ripped his leg off and beat him to death with the thigh bone."

"Ohh, right. We checked him too?"

"Yeah." Linmayu snickered quietly to herself. "Heh... bone."

Sivara stifled a chuckle, still going through the list of victims. "Wait, wait," she suddenly said, "what about the one by the stairs?"

The monk folded up and pocketed the map, rejoining the warrior. "That one fell over the railing, at least ten stories." She cringed. "Forget that, I'm not running down all those stairs for that."

"Didn't that one have a name?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, you were the one fighting him."

Linmayu scratched her chin, brow creased in intense concentration. "Come to think of it," she said after a pause, "I think it was... uh... something like, "Qui'ro, the Keyholder", or something along those lines."

Without looking up, Sivara squeezed her eyes shut and facepalmed, her tail drooping in dismay. "Qui'ro... the KEYholder," she flatly parroted.

Realization slowly crossed the Elvaan's features; she looked away and fidgeted awkwardly. "Well... I mean, I thought that was just a name. I didn't... y'know..."

The Mithra clenched and relaxed her fists, counting silently to ten. She inhaled slowly, and carefully released her breath. "I think," she tersely began, "you should go back and check the body."

"Okay, okay," Linmayu said in mild annoyance, turning away and starting up the hallway, carefully picking past the numerous fallen Yagudo. "Sheesh..."

Sivara took another deep breath, gradually calming down. She managed a weak chuckle and shook her head. (I swear, sometimes I don't know about that woman.) Casting another gaze around the bloody, corpse-filled hallway, she mentally added, (Of course, I can't complain TOO much... nothing quite like letting off some steam on these filthy Yagudo. I have to stay in shape somehow, after all.) She smiled briefly, amused by her momentary pretense of vanity.

The smile vanished when she heard several clacking footsteps headed her way. She whirled around and her eyes bugged out as she spotted no less than a dozen Yagudo, all armed and looking just a little bit upset at the carnage before them.

"Smoothskin intruder!" squawked the lead beastman. "Youse not gettin' outta here alive!"

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Sivara grumbled, hefting her axe once more.

- EXACTLY FIVE MINUTES AND SEVENTEEN SECONDS LATER -

The Elvaan monk smiled as she strode up the hallway, pleased with her aquisition; the Yagudo's key, clutched firmly in her hand. "I got it!" she called cheerfully, rounding a corner. "Let's see what these birds have been protectiiiiyaaaaagh!"

Her voice caught in her throat, turning into a strangled yelp as her eyes fell upon the massacre. Not far from the door, Sivara stood defiantly on top of a pile of dead and battered Yagudo at least four feet high and eight feet across. The Mithra had a white-knuckle grip on her axe and murder in her eyes; her tail stood straight out and up, the hairs bristling angrily.

From where she stood, Linmayu could almost hear the warrior's teeth grinding. "Is that the key?" she half-growled, her brow twitching.

"Uh... yes," the monk quietly replied.

Sivara gestured stiffly to the door. "Open. Treasure. NOW."


End file.
